Cold and Dark
by Kitty Smith
Summary: How might Pitch have persuaded Jack to join him? An almost drabble Potentially preslash BlackFrost oneshot


**How Pitch might have convinced Jack to join him in Rise of the Guardians.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Rise of the Guardians nor the series Guardians of Childhood.**

"To want a family," Pitch entreated, brow furrowed and hand extended, palm-side up. Jack's traitorous heart leapt at the word and he forced himself to look away, but not before Pitch noticed the pique in interest. Scrapping his other plans entirely, Pitch pushed forward, clutching Jack's shoulder and stooping to look the youthful immortal in the eye, "We could be family, Jack. Who else would understand you like I do? What goes better…" He moved his hand to Jack's cheek, hoping to play off the boy's obvious keening need for affection, "Than cold and dark?" Pitch was more pleased than he expected when Jack leaned surreptitiously into the touch, wondering if he wasn't a little touch-starved himself these past millennia.

Jack searched the yellow-gold eyes before him, looking for the deceit. He could tell the way Pitch was moving, and definitely the way he was placing those affectionate touches was clearly premeditated. And although he knew that logically, it was still a temptation; in fact, on paper, it sounded great. A family, someone to understand what it was like to be alone and not believed in, a partner in the storm. There was a time Jack would've jumped at the chance. Finding himself leaning into the touch, Jack broke away, stepping back to breathe air not tainted with dark and flooded with Pitch's scent.

That time had passed. Jack was more cautious now. "I don't really want to drown the world in fear, and that's a little speed bump for this 'family' thing, isn't it?"

"Oh, politics, Jack," Pitch waved off his concerns dismissively, and though Jack's stubbornness did worry him slightly, how hard could the boy be to sway? Especially once they were family. "You see families of all sorts of individual leanings, don't you? Family doesn't break up over something as silly as that. Think on it; I can't be everywhere at once, you know, spreading fear and causing nightmares. And too much fear," Pitch exhaled sharply, almost a huff, and shook his head, bridging the gap between the two of them both physically and verbally, "Well, they break. They're no longer afraid. Or, rather, they're no longer anything outside those fragile little heads of theirs. You can provide the levity, the fun in the day, and help them keep hope. I need you to keep them from breaking, Jack. Not to go out and rough them up."

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, unconsciously making a barrier between them, as by this point Pitch was near looming over the younger sprite, "Yuh-huh. And somehow that'll make them believe in me? Your whole plan to get followers is based on fear."

"Oh, I'll mention my arch-nemesis, Jack Frost, whenever I make my exit at dawn. In fact," Pitch was sort of getting into the fabricating of this plan, now. It almost sounded… Fun. "We could even put about that you had no power in the night, nor I in the day, so we could be seen together without arousing suspicion." His previous plan to lure and subjugate the boy was getting further from the forefront of his mind, and Pitch closed his eyes tightly once to center himself, snapping out of the enthusiasm of the game. He could see Jack's defenses faltering in the softness of his face and Pitch rested his hands gently on Jack's crossed arms, "Or we could do otherwise. Jack, together, the possibilities are endless."

A flurry of snow, natural of once, blew between them and subsided in an instant, their clothes and expressions settling calmly in its passing. "And we'd be family?" The slow, careful question had something dangerously real fill Pitch's chest like storm clouds. Whether the lightening reached golden eyes or Jack heard the thunder, somewhere in Pitch's silence he found an answer and nodded, resolutely, allowing his arms to fall by his sides as Pitch's questing hands slid possessively up to his shoulders. He graced Pitch with a lopsided, smile etched with regret, "It's the Guardians' turn to not be believed in."


End file.
